Falling for you
by yo-tan
Summary: I don't know where this is going but, Crowley is angsting over the fear of Aziraphale falling if he loves him.


Falling For You  
  
Title: Falling for you  
  
Chapter: Chapter 1: Dreamer  
  
Rating: PG-13 I guess. Only a little citrus.  
  
Coupling: Crowley/ Aziraphale  
  
Your basic disclaimer: Good Omens does not belong to me. Crowley, Aziraphale, and the rest of the gang belong to Terry Prachett and Neil Gaiman. They are holy and if I had an ounce of their talent, I would think I sold my soul to Crowley.  
  
Notes: I actually only have this much of the story so far. My muse (who happens to be a shoe in my closet) has planted this idea into my head when I was picking out an outfit. I already have a bit of a plot for this one, and it's developing slowly, but it's coming. I don't know if this is going anywhere, but I hope so. This is what happens when masochistic fan girls like to angst.  
  
Lips…  
  
Lips pressed against his….  
  
As sweet as sugar…  
  
As addictive as silk…  
  
Satin water pouring down his face and soul, as these lips, made of sugar and spice, and everything nice, pressed against his.  
  
He could feel Aziraphale's long hair tickling his face and his chest. As a tongue explored his mouth, Crowley ran his hands along Aziraphale's bare back, caressing shoulder blades, running his hands along ribs until his hands reached the bare small of the angel, no wait, *his* angel's back. He clasped his hands together, pulling him closer to him.  
  
Oh, God, Crowley thought as the kiss deepened, please, never let him let go…I never want to be away from him.  
  
To be honest, Crowley had loved Aziraphale for longer than he could remember. It wasn't like love at first sight. He hadn't just woken up one morning and said, "You know, I think I love that angel." It had been the exact opposite.  
  
It had been more like a life long friend. It was like how children meet, and become friends. But that day that they became "Best Friend" is blurred in a thousand memories of laughter and life.  
  
That's exactly what it was like! He thought to himself.  
  
But unlike the "Best Friend"*, he had never told Aziraphale about his love. How he wasn't just the "Best Friend" but also "The One".  
  
And as Aziraphale's satin lips kissed Crowley's neck he pondered, but why did I tell him?  
  
A momentary look of confusion came over his face as he realized, I never told him because…  
  
He struggled to think why.  
  
I was always afraid…  
  
His mind grasped at the idea, each time narrowly slipping through his fingers.  
  
1 I was always afraid he was going to…  
  
It was like trying to catch a specific molecule of water.  
  
2 Going to… Going to…  
  
Suddenly that molecule leaped out of its group and slapped Crowley hard in the face, mocking him.  
  
3 "FALL!"  
  
As the words flew out of his mouth, so did Aziraphale**. The bed disappeared, the walls disappeared, and the entire world disappeared. Black engulfed his world as raven wings unfolded, feathers flying like cursed snow.  
  
Crowley shot out into the dark, flying with a force he had never felt before. Aziraphale seemed to fall in slow motion his genderless form, reaching out a single hand to Crowley.  
  
Crowley pushed faster, feeling the strain on his wings.  
  
I'm not going to be able to fly for weeks after this, but it doesn't matter! It doesn't matter!  
  
A soft light was emitted from Aziraphale's skin, as was common with angels. But it dimmed softly, like the eyes of a dying star. He brow was creased as he looked up concerned to Crowley. Cerulean eyes stared sadly up at Crowley, as if apologizing for something he had done.  
  
As if that poor angel had done anything! Crowley screamed in his head, tears pouring down his face, upward into space.  
  
Aziraphale fell limply, like a rag doll dropped. Crowley noticed that as he fell more and more feathers seemed to be molting from his wings. A few seconds ago there were only one or two, but now there were thousands. Crowley pushed farther and farther, his hand reaching, flying through this unholy snow.  
  
He was so close. So damned close! If he could just get a couple inches farther, he could save him. Just a few more inches!  
  
Feathers flew past him, slapping his face, his skin. And then suddenly he did it.  
  
Aziraphale's hand was in his! As Aziraphale's helpless face looked up surprised into Crowley's face, which I might add, was smiling innocently back at him, Aziraphale whispered, "It's okay… I love you…"  
  
Suddenly, it felt as if something jerked Aziraphale out of his grip and watched as the angel fell helplessly to the ebony floor below.  
  
He hit with a sickening thud.  
  
Crowley hovered in the air, staring at the shock of what had just happened. Feathers fell, softly around him, surrounding Aziraphale's broken body, as if to join him in his fate.  
  
It looked almost like Aziraphale's heavenly glow was still there with them around him like that  
  
Crowley heard a soft voice brake the overwhelming silence of falling feathers and realized it was his own.  
  
"Aziraphale?"  
  
The body stirred gently.  
  
"Aziraphale?" Crowley repeated, more hopeful.  
  
The head lifted up, with slit pupils surrounded by a sickly yellow. Black feathers surrounding him.  
  
"Yesssss?" the Ex-angel hissed from his smug smile, forked tongue flickering.  
  
A tear slid down Crowley's face.  
  
"No…" he whispered, wrapping his arms around his bare skin, as if he as really shaking because he was cold.  
  
"No," he said a bit more firmly.  
  
"No, no, no! No Aziraphale! No!" His screaming voice hit the air like a blast of fire.  
  
"NO!"  
  
Crowley shot up in bed, sweat pouring down his face. As the room came into focus, the disorientation fled, and Crowley remembered, thankfully where he was. Leaning forward, hands spread next to his legs, he breathed deeply. The word still rang in his ear, as he ran a pale hand through his matted black hair, and looked at the digital clock.  
  
3 am…He sighed in disbelief.  
  
Now demons generally do not have nightmares, and Crowley had never had nightmares***, but he had been having this one all week.  
  
What does it mean?! He asked himself quietly. What?!  
  
He continued to drill himself this question as he pulled his knees to his chest in the dark and cried silently.  
  
* Of course Aziraphale was his best friend in a sense. They had been since Eden, when they had gotten into a long and friendly conversation about Aziraphale's flaming sword, which Crowley teased him about for years.  
  
** Not like that you sick and twisted freak! Okay… maybe like that… All right! Like that! *pouts in corner*  
  
*** The only other nightmare had been the one that had woken him up to use the lavatory in 1832. It had been about a giant cheese sandwich trying to eat him with pickles and mustard. 


End file.
